


joy and sorrow

by codesandhearts



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Families of Choice, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, another nico pulls an orpheus fic, points at jasico: u can fit so much trauma in these bad boys, the answer is a lot, this fic is me asking how much tenderness and love i can pour into jasico, this fic is sappy as heck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25133725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codesandhearts/pseuds/codesandhearts
Summary: nico rescues jason from death. that’s not the end.//"This isn't a ghost story! It's a love story."
Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Jason Grace
Comments: 20
Kudos: 160





	joy and sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> listen this fic evolved and devolved, longer and more different than i first imagined it, but i kinda love it?? it's sappy as heck 
> 
> sometimes lads,, country roads...take you home

“- The big miracle is your power to raise the dead. - Love does that. And it raised me, too. How alive do you think I was—before?”

— **K.V. (1961)**

Jason can see his own death. He sees the blood on his chest, Caligula’s sneering face, hears the screams and cries of his friend as he topples over, unable to help him. Caligula doesn’t stay very long, just makes sure that Jason is dead and goes off to his next conquest. Tempest doesn’t want to believe it, he noses at Jason’s body, whining, willing for him to wake up.

He wants to yell out to his friends that there’s nothing they can do. He’s made peace. He died protecting them. He’s always thought this was how he would go. There was no better thing, though he can do without the tears on Piper’s face, the desperation, the love. _Oh_ , he loves her. Will always love her, but never will again. There were many things wrong with their relationship, he sees now, and he knows she does, too, but fondness grazes at him, adoration slides into his still heart.

Jason wants to sleep, wants to wake up wherever he’s supposed to be - Elysium, Asphodel, he doesn’t much care at this point. He just doesn’t want to see his friends suffer. He is cursed to watch, until they bring peace to his body. He follows the procession, even when he vibrates with anger.

 _Don’t bury me as a Roman!_ he wants to yell to Apollo, to Reyna.

 _Come back, say goodbye to me!_ to Piper, to Thalia, to Percy and Annabeth, to everyone he has ever loved.

 _See me!_ to Nico.

_Love me beyond death._

They bury him as a soldier, because he’s never shown them he could be anything more.

In Elysium, for the first few days, he looks for Leo.

He isn’t here, Jason realizes -remembers- he isn’t dead. All that time, wondering if Leo was alive, and never seeing him again. Jason is then torn between happiness and misery.

It’s not to say he’s friendless. He’s made friends with many of the fallen Camp Half-Blood warriors during the Titan War, all of whom light up when he mentions Percy’s name. Jason lights up, too, an excuse to talk about a life, ended. He spends days - though time does not necessarily exist here - hoping, wishing, for Nico. He is the only one, who could call him back, even for a moment, even for a second. Jason yearns for solid flesh, even if it’ll pass through him, wants to see him, though it’s selfish now that Jason’s buried. Nico deserves to move on, beyond all the death in his life.

Then he meets Eurydice.

He remembers her story, of course he does, feels tragedy in his bones whenever he looks at her but she smiles, so beautiful, so gentle, and he can believe that Orpheus, standing by her side now, copper skin against her pale arms, would journey anywhere for her. There is something in her that reminds him of his mother, but in the crystal moments where she would look at him and he would believe she loved him. She reminds him of his mother, if his mother knew how to be one. She leads him through Elysium with a lilting voice, mimicking Orpheus.

“Please forgive me, my husband is the one with the voice,” she says.

“Your voice is beautiful,” Jason says earnestly and she warms to him. Orpheus looks on, a fond smile on his face. He does not worry, though his eyes never quite leave her body - scared she will disappear again and he will lose her again. Jason doesn’t ask how he ended up here, after his disdain at the gods for taking Eurydice away from him, and Orpheus doesn’t push. 

Orpheus is a silent man, he only becomes animated when his wife talks. Jason can only remember one instance where Orpheus talked to him. His eyes traveled the length of him, skeptical, then surprised, and said, “You remind me of one of my lovers.”

Jason blushed, unable to respond.

They dance around each other, Orpheus and Eurydice, a happy ending that no one ever saw. Jason wonders what that must feel like - to know that death is only an inconvenience.

Once, during one of their talks, Jason mentions Nico and both of them turn happy, then adoring, then sad.

“Sometimes, I think,” Orpheus says, “he is only waiting to come here.” Jason wants to ask how they knew Nico, if they could fill in the gaps of Nico's life Jason -nor anyone- weren't privy to, wonders if they knew him when his frame was smaller, when grief was still fresh.

“Oh, husband,” Eurydice says, a hand on his, another on Jason’s. “I think he feels he won’t belong even here.”

Eurydice looks at him, and tells him Elysium is a second chance, or a first one, depending on how tragic your life was on earth. Jason believes her, merely because he has to do something, he has to get rid of this itch that doesn’t seem apparent in her, or in Silena Beauregard, or Beckendorf. Eurydice takes his face into her hands, strokes gently at his cheekbones, the scar above his lips, and sees sadness in his eyes.

“Who hurt you?” she asks. Jason almost wants to laugh. Too many, he wants to answer. Not enough, he wants to say. She, however, doesn’t wait for an answer. She merely says, “This is a place where no one can hurt you anymore. You can be free now, my love.”

He knows she’s right but he’s Jason Grace, a son who was born only as a chess piece, a two-year-old lost in the woods, snarling and biting, a praetor with a ramrod straight back, a teenager who was made lost, then killed. He is only waiting for the other shoe to drop. He is waiting for someone to leave him behind, to cast spells on him, to put fake memories in his head, to tell him to sit up straight, to join the First Cohort instead of stay at the Fifth, to kill, to order him to join another war, to tell him he’s too perfect when all he wants to do is _scream_.

He waits, he waits, for a hand to come from the sky and create thunder in him.

“How?” Jason asks.

Eurydice smiles. “Can you sing for me?”

He’s never tried. So he tries.

He tries to mimics the slow stream of the lake, the flow of her dress, the soft whisper of the air, always smelling of honey and wine and apples.

She tells him something he doesn’t think he’s ever heard before, without a sword in his hands, lightning in his eyes. “Oh, Jason Grace. You are wonderful.”

So, some days now, he practices his singing with Orpheus playing on his lyre. Most days, though, he just thinks. Though he has never felt freer, feeling itself feels muted. It makes sense. The sheer breadth of the human emotion should only be felt by a human. And he is not that, anymore. And he wants to be. He wants to feel the joy of it, the sorrow of it, he hasn’t gotten much of it. He was only learning how to be. He had no chance to become.

Not for the first time, he wishes those memories of Wilderness School weren’t fake, that he was, once, a normal teenager who fell in love, who laughed with his best friend.

He has always just been half-god. Jason sometimes forgets he is also half-human.

Well, now, he’s neither.

He goes to a graveyard and summons Achilles. It must be some cruel irony, too, that he looks like Jason. The chiseled jaw, the blonde hair, the endless sun-kissed skin, the way he looks to death as a welcome friend. Jason knew he was going to die, and Nico knew it, too.

“My young prince,” Achilles says, “what is wrong?” 

Here, he doesn’t have to pretend. He can never lie to ghosts, though he is used to lying to everyone else. He is allowed to grieve, he knows, but the pain - it will never amount to Thalia’s, to Piper’s, to Leo’s, Reyna's, to those who loved Jason better than him.

“How,” Nico struggles, “how did you do it? Live, without him?”

“Oh, Nico,” Achilles is softer than Nico has ever seen him. He realizes, all the times before he summoned Achilles, he was valued as a strategist, a soldier, a hero, but in his rawest form, he is only a lover. “I didn’t.”

“I don’t know if I…” Nico can’t say the word.

Achilles’s smile is heartbreaking. “Then why summon me, my prince? If not to lick your wounds, if not to tell you what you already know.”

“To ask if you would do it. What I am thinking of doing,” Nico says.

The wind rustles around them, Achilles looks away. He doesn’t look lost, not staring off into the distance, Nico wonders if Patroclus with him, eyes turning soft. “I do not have your powers, young prince,” he says. “But you already know the answer. I would do anything for love.” Love, the word that avoids him, that comes so easily to Achilles, the reason he’s even having this conversation.

“There is someone else here,” Nico says, “who could love me, if I let him.”

“And will you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t-” Nico stops himself. “Maybe. But things are different now." _I do not have the same hands_.

He thinks of Achilles, of Jason, of Percy, the same kind of hero who doesn’t know how to live without it spelling tragedy.

“I don’t know what love is,” Nico admits. It has only meant heartbreak, and death, and confusion. “How do I know?”

Because maybe, love - to raise the dead, to defy prophecies and ancient laws - maybe it will be enough this time.

Achilles laughs. “It will burn.”

He summons Jason, after talking to his friends. Nico can’t bear to look at him for too long, it makes his eyes water and there will be no reason to cry soon. Not for Thalia, who is still grieving, and Piper, who looks to the sky and compares it to Jason’s eyes. Nico is merely the vessel, the means to an end. He cannot bear to see the sadness anymore, the martyrdom. This is what he tells himself.

“Nico,” and his heart breaks, is mended, and breaks again.

“Jason,” he manages, only barely.

He thinks of Percy’s steely eyes when the grief became only an emotion second only to his anger. He stormed into Olympus, screaming justice to Zeus, to anyone who would listen. “Another death! Another martyr!” he yelled. “When will it end? _When will you protect us?_ ”

Zeus didn’t reply.

“We die for you,” Percy said. “Over and over again. Let us _live_.”

When Nico told him of his plan, Percy hugged him, the first time in a long time. Nico realizes the touch of him doesn’t light him on fire anymore. He wonders if it ever did. “Bring him home,” he said. “We’re owed this.”

Jason stands before him now, sixteen, would always be sixteen. Too young. Were he a worse and sadder person, he could live like this, to have Jason as a spectre only for him, tufts of blonde hair standing up, a hole in his shirt, summon him every day, not share him with the rest of the world, the rest of their friends. But the months have shifted, there have been so many people who poured love into Nico, including Jason, people who would not see him destroy himself. 

“I am coming for you,” Nico says.

He expects Jason to protest, to tell him no, to think about this. But he only says, “I’ll be waiting."

Nico, Nico, Nico. He wants to sing it out, he wants to hear the cadence of his voice saying Nico’s name, he hasn’t said it for so long, hasn’t allowed himself to. When he is summoned, he feels again, the full depth of it. There’s a tug in his belly, pulling him and he only gets to wave to Silena before he evaporates, before he stands in the middle of the woods. He looks down, sees the way his hands are transparent, feels a numb pain in his abdomen where the spear went through, takes a step and, when he doesn’t leave footprints, he wants to cry. Nico stands before him. He wonders how long it’s been because he looks taller, his hair longer and messier, but his face is gaunt, skinnier, more tired. Heat prickles in Jason’s eyes and he’s so grateful for it, for the painful rush of tears that threatens to overtake him.

“Jason,” Nico says and his knees buckle.

“Nico,” there it is. The first name he’s called that doesn’t belong to a ghost. But, looking at Nico now, maybe he’s wrong about that. “How long has it been?”

“A year.” If Jason had lived, he would’ve been seventeen now. As if Nico knows what he’s thinking, he says, “We celebrated your birthday. Percy made a blue cake.”

Jason laughs and, oh gods, even that. Even the small giggle that comes out at the thought of a blue-coloured birthday cake, it brings a rush. “I would’ve liked that. Tell him.”

“You can tell him yourself.”

Jason looks around Nico, thinking their other friends are hiding behind trees and bushes to surprise him, but there is only Nico. Jason is okay with that.

“I’m coming for you,” Nico says by way of explanation.

And Jason, as best as he can, feels everything. Gratitude and suffering and grief and happiness and wants it, wants it. Knows even the pain of loving Nico from afar will be worth it, even the torture of singing in his cabin, alone, will be everything. He knows the Jason Grace who died, who was buried as a Roman, mourned for a year, would protest.

But death has created him, anew. He has earned, he thinks, the right to be selfish.

He wants blue birthday cakes and the smell of the sea that sticks to Percy’s skin, the softness of Piper’s hands, and Leo, oh gods _Leo_ , laughing at his jokes. He wants to reach out for any semblance of touch Nico will give him, the scent of cedar and pine in the wild where Thalia roams with her hunters, the braids of Reyna’s hair, the stone columns of New Rome. Though the thought of going back fills him with a certain kind of agony, it is worth it. It is already worth it now, seeing Nico, knowing he wants him back, even as a shadow, even as a friend.

He cries, then, uncontrollable, and he can’t remember the last time he cried in front of a living person, he can’t remember being a living person. “Tell me,” Jason says, between sobs, “tell me to stop.” He won’t, otherwise.

“Jason…” Nico says, but does it anyway. Orders him, as a prince of the dead. And there is a tingle that comes up Jason’s spine that has nothing to do with following the order, but the order itself, where it came from.

Nico steps forward and Jason hopes, wishes. He puts a hand on Jason’s face, like Eurydice does. If he closes his eyes, he can almost feel it.

“I’m coming for you,” he repeats.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Eurydice hugs him, when he tells her, and Orpheus pats his shoulder. She is crying, he is not, though his eyes are indescribable, as if he will miss him. 

"Oh, husband! This isn't a ghost story!" she says, excited. "It's a love story." 

Jason doesn't want to disprove her, but he is not naive enough to hope. He should've expected this, really, the way death doesn't seem like much of a challenge for children of the eldest gods, who stare at lightning and ask it to fight back, who yell at the sea, summoning earthquakes. Though, it never would've been him. He acts, and thinks, like he could've been, but he knows better. 

Will would love him, deeper, purer, less selfishly. 

And there is still something of the wolf in Jason. He would remind Nico of all the sharp edges that have hurt him before. 

“I know what you are thinking,” Orpheus tells him. “But he must, to come for you. He must love you.”

Jason doesn’t tell him this is not the first time Nico has come to the Underworld, pulling souls back to life. But Bianca, and Hazel…there is no way Nico loves him the same, with the same magnitude.

He doesn’t know how it’s supposed to happen, spends days expecting the pull at his belly when he was summoned, or a hand on his shoulder. He has already said his goodbyes to Orpheus, Eurydice, Silena and Charles, to Achilles and Patroclus, and Grandmother Zhang, though he is trying not to see it as goodbye. One day, Thanatos calls for him, tells him to go the palace where Hades and Persephone live. On his black throne, Hades sits inspecting him. Jason can see echoes of Nico in him, the dark eyes of him.

“Why you?” Hades asks. “What made you special?”

Jason has never been asked this. A son of Jupiter carries him with importance, leadership and justice, but Hades is not looking him as his brother’s son, only as Jason Grace. And even Jason doesn’t know who Jason Grace is.

“Nothing,” Jason admits.

Persephone gives him a soft smile. “You know that is not true.” She comes forward and Jason has trouble finding an image of her that sticks, all he comes out with is a feeling of kindness, of love to the point of death. 

Hades speaks again and Jason pulls his gaze away from Persephone. “Do you care for my son, Jason?”

“Do you know your son, my Lord Hades?”

Hades is taken aback by the question. “I try to,” he answers. “Everything he has been through, he should be crueler, but he is kinder than anyone gives him credit for. He is stubborn, and fierce, caring to the point of destruction.”

“So you must know the answer,” Jason says. “ How could I hold anything less than care, than love, for him?”

He never expected to admit his love for the first time, to Hades, whose face softens.

Persephone puts a hand on his shoulder and leads him to a bed, adorned with flowers. “Stay here. Sleep,” she says. “He will come.”

He does, because he trusts Persephone. In her eyes, he sees whispers of Thalia. She is a sister, too. Her voice is sweet, springtime dulcet tones, when she says, "Do not waste this, little brother."

He hears Hades and Persephone speak, about him, but he cannot be roused. 

"Oh, husband," Persephone says. 

"I know," Hades says. "Like father, like son. He, too, could not love someone from his realm." Jason doesn't know what to do with that. 

He wakes when his limbs are pulled. There are cracks in the earth, then fire, deep tectonic shifts. He smells green, feels air getting pumped into his lungs, feels his blood wake in his veins and, 

for the first time in a year, 

_breathes_. 

When he wakes, he is in the woods again, but he smells the scent of fire, of meat. Gods, how could he have forgotten this? The simple pleasure of being out in the wild, and feeling. Everything is dialed up now, everything in full, blinding colour and he almost passes out again from it. There is a sizzle, so he wakes, and sees a campfire and makeshift cooking stove. He is alone, but the food is for more than one person. He almost gets up but there is a rustling. The sun is high in the sky, light peeks through the trees, and Nico comes forward, holding a bucket of water from a nearby stream. 

"You're awake," Nico says and Jason stands, gravity pulling at him again, making him woozy. Jeez, he has to learn how to be alive again. But Nico's here, he's here. There's nothing else. 

"Please," Jason says, doesn't know what he's asking for, but Nico seems to know. He drops the water, comes towards him and wraps his arms around his waist. Here, gods, here, he wants nothing more than to stay here. Nico is warm and Jason's never really thought about it but Elysium was cold, there was no semblance of human heat there and he could've lived fine without it but here, gods, there is nothing better. There is nothing more he wants. One day, he knows, he'll have to go back to being dead and all of this will be ripped away from him again but he has this now, he has this again. 

Nico smells like wood, like branches in the wilderness they're in, and pomegranates and fresh pine and everything alive. 

"Jason," Nico is starting to pull away. 

"Please?" Does he know no other words? 

Nico still pulls away, silently, puts out the fire and leads Jason to the sleeping bag he was on before and just, returns with his touch. He curls into Jason, arm around him, and breathes. Jason breathes too. 

"Hazel," Nico starts, "Hazel, uh, when I pulled her out. She needed human warmth, too. Took her maybe a day to adjust."

Jason doesn't tell him, even he hadn't been dead, even if he was seventeen now and alive, he would still want this. He would still want his arms around Nico, breathing in his scent. "Okay," is all he says. "You gonna indulge me, then? Cuddle me back to life?"

Nico laughs, and the sound of it reverberates in his bones.“Yeah, Grace.”

Everything is different now. Before, he could’ve easily let time loose, not knowing how long he held Nico in his arms, but he is aware of every second that passes because time didn’t exist in Elysium and here it does. The constant reminder that there are seconds that will never repeat. Far from it being a depressing thought, Jason revels in it. Eventually, Nico leaves the cradle of his arms and Jason’s reminded by how touch felt like a sore spot to Nico before but now he gives it away, as a comfort. He serves him slightly charred bacon, with rice, and a bottle of hot sauce Nico bought. It’s a weird meal, but his first one. The tangy, sweet, garlicky notes of the sauce, the stickiness of the rice, the crispy burnt edges of bacon.

Out of nowhere, Jason asks, “Do you think I could be a chef?” Because he started singing in Elysium, and Persephone’s words echo in him - do not waste this, little brother.

Nico snorts. “Sure,” he answers. “Stranger things have happened.”

 _He is talking about me_. Jason can tell, from the way his eyes are wary, and hard, looking at Jason as if he will vanish into smoke again. Sometimes, though, Nico will look at him with softness, with awe, and Jason’s skin wants to burn from it.

“Thank you,” Jason says, “it doesn’t seem like enough. But thank you.”

“You would’ve done the same. For anyone.” Nico turns cold again.

“But especially for you.”

Nico’s eyes glance up in shock. Surely he knows, surely Nico knows how Jason would tear open the Underworld from him. Jason wonders if that’s what Nico did, wonders how Nico saved him at all. He had felt his soul be ripped, then pieced together again, but he doesn’t ask, not yet.

“Everyone will be happy to see you,” Nico says.

Jason hums. “Can we…”

“What?”

“Can we not go back yet?” Jason asks. “For a few days at least.”

“Why?”

“I’m not ready.” Jason watches as the afternoon sun dims in the sky, thinks about Apollo, if he’s back on Olympus. “I’m not ready to be _Jason Grace_ again, not yet. I just wanna be here, with you, for a while. I know that’s selfish and wrong and-”

“You deserve a break from being a hero,” Nico says.

“Maybe you do, too.”

Nico pokes a branch at the extinguished fire. “I don’t think the word hero has ever applied to me.”

“I hope you know that’s not true. None of us, and I mean none of us, would be alive if it weren’t for you.”

“Well, you _weren’t_ alive.”

Jason laughs, sharp in his throat. “Ha ha, di Angelo.” He stands, the fullness in his belly making him happy, but he itches to move. The woods are lovely, he doesn’t know where they are, but something tells him they're closer to Camp Jupiter. “Come on, I wanna take a walk.”

Nico stands up, keeping a hold on Jason's arms because his feet are still wobbly. They're not too in the wild, in the distance he can hear cars, but there is enough calmness here. Before Elysium, he can't remember the last time he properly breathed. His breath always came ragged, sharp inhales in battle. He knows it is selfish to stay, but he has the rest of his life to be Jason Grace, and his work on this earth isn't done just yet. In his head, he is already reeling with possibilities, first on the list is talking to Reyna. To fill in his gaps, to remember the times they loved each other in whichever way they could, and to ask for a reform. No more, he thinks, child soldiers. Too many children have already been made feral. Second is to honor the minor gods, as he promised.

His goals haven't changed, but his eyes have. There is more hope in this world than he has ever experienced. Most of it contained in the boy next to him. 

"Is it okay if I..." he is hesitant. 

"What?"

"Hold your hand."

Nico flushes, though he turns his face fast so Jason can't quite be sure. Wordlessly, Nico entwines their fingers and Jason feels grounded again. Part of him wonders if Nico's right, if it's just the fact that Jason is readjusting to being human again, but he knows, somehow, resurrection has nothing to do with it. The warmth comes from Nico itself. His forearms are showing and Jason's eyes track along the scars left behind by Lycaon. Nico catches him staring. 

"Do they still hurt?" Jason asks because he remembers the bandages that covered a majority of Nico's skin after the Gaea war, remembers the pain. 

Nico shrugs. "Not as much as they did."

"You look better," Jason says. What he doesn't say is: _you look like every dream I never thought I could have_. 

The world turns colder, even in California, and he remembers Persephone is in the Underworld now. It must be the winter months, and the sun dips away. The cold bites at him as they make their way back, but Nico is still warm. 

"I promised I'd call Hazel tomorrow," Nico says. "We don't have to tell anyone else you're back yet but Hazel will be worried about me." 

"No worries." They sit and Nico's hand is still in his. In the firelight, he examines the palm of Nico's hand, traces a finger along the callouses and creases. "I can ask her about being brought back to life."

That night, they trade memories like breaths. It is simultaneously the easiest and most difficult thing to fall back into rhythm with Nico. They spent months in each other's heartbeats before Jason left and he still remembers the utter devastation Nico wore when he did, the heartbreak. They don't talk about his death, his funeral, or Will. Nothing that could hurt. And, for a few minutes, Jason Grace is just a normal teenager, falling in love, laughing with his best friend. 

There's a stream near their campsite so they pack up their things (not a lot) and take a walk there. Jason can't remember the last time he went camping, or if he ever did. The last time he spent any prolonged amount of time in the wild was probably when he just left the Wolf House. He tells Nico this. 

"You remember being in the Wolf House?" Nico asks. 

"Somewhat. It's still a bit muddy but something tells me I don't want to remember all of it." He has flashes of dead bodies, blood on his teeth, nuzzling fur, sleep piles with his pack. Not all bad, but not all good. "It says something about me that the best mother I had was a wolf." 

"Stop making me sad for you, it's bad enough you died."

"You wanna hear the brick story again?"

Nico laughs, bright. They reach the stream, slow trickles of water travelling down. Winter in California doesn’t feel like so biting, it’s only cool, and inviting. They’re the only people around, so Jason breathes in.

“This is already better than the last time I went camping,” Nico says, taking off his boots.

“When was that?”

Nico makes a hum. “Five years ago? When I ran away from camp, before I went to the Underworld. I spent a good few months on my own.”

“Well, I would hope I’d be better company than solitude.”

“Jury’s still out on that.”

The stream is beautiful, cold where it touches his toes. “I haven’t taken a shower in a year,” Jason says.

“Jason, that’s gross.”

“It’s true! I didn’t need to shower in Elysium, I was constantly smelling nice, just the perfect temperature.” The coolness of the water reminds him of Elysium. “Do you mind if I-?”

Nico shrugs. “Go wild." Jason smiles, then starts to tug his layers off, and, for the first time, he wonders where his clothes came from. These aren’t the same ones he was buried in, he wonders if Nico went to Camp Half Blood to get Jason’s clothes for him, gathering dust in his lone cabin. Nico’s eyes track his movements, until his abdomen shows.

“The scar’s still here,” Jason says, his fingers touch the deep wound Caligula’s spear left. It’s healed a bit, but still red.

And Jason, Jason’s always scared of initiating touch with Nico without explicit permission but Nico is the one who reaches out now, his hand splayed on Jason’s torso. His breath hitches, this is the closest they’ve ever been. Nico is so close, he smells like the earth. Gods.

“It looks better, though,” Nico says, his fingers tracing around the wound and Jason feels his insides stir. Nico looks up, up, until their eyes meet and there’s no way Jason’s face doesn’t give _everything_ away - his mouth is open, trying to suck in as much oxygen as he can, he feels breathless, his eyes wide. He wants to lean forward, wants, the only desire that carried on in death.

But Nico snatches his hand away, Jason’s heart breaks.

“I’ll call Hazel,” he says. “Give you some privacy.”

Jason wants to scream - _don’t, don’t, stay, I want you as close as possible,_ but his mouth shuts. He closes his eyes and Nico is gone, through the trees. His shoulders slump. Gods, he’s an idiot.

He strips down to his boxers and, man, that’s another thought - did Nico put on his clothes when he was resurrected? He hopes Percy can feel his presence in the water so he can make the water slap some sense into Jason.

Hazel looks at him, confused and concern. "You're not coming back yet?" 

"Not yet, maybe a few more days."

"Something wrong? You haven't gotten Jason yet?"

Nico shakes his head. "No, I have him. I think he just needs a bit more time to adjust. And maybe, I dunno," the eleven-year-old in him, scared and used to running, halts but Hazel makes him honest. "Maybe I need some time, too."

His sister gives a soft smile. "Take all the time you need. Just, be careful."

"Of what?" Of Jason? Despite everything, he's always felt safe with Jason. 

"Monsters, dummy. You're still a demigod. Jason will take care of you, though, I'm sure." A pause. "How is he?" 

"Different," is all Nico can say. Freer, happier, it is Jason, or who Jason was meant to be if tragedy didn't colour him. "But good. It's nice here." With him.

"Come home soon," she says. "Bring him home."

"I will." 

"Love you, Nico."

"You, too."

He sits alone as Hazel evaporates and listens to the rustle of the trees, thinks of Pan, of Grover, who showed him kindness once. It is nice here. There is nothing to run from, though his heartbeat makes a strong case against it. Jason is here, alive, happier than he's ever seen him. That moment, at the stream - he felt a year younger, in the arms of this guy who mistrusted him at first, a feeling stuck in his throat, unnamed then, unwanted now. If anything, dying has made Jason even more golden. 

They talked, a bit, about his death, his funeral. Jason asked this morning, and Nico won't tell him the whole truth of it, knows it would only mean heartache. But he talks about the grief, and how it blanketed everyone for months, until they found hope in each other, bit by bit, and the plan Nico thought of to get Jason back. When Jason left, Nico had a feeling something was going to happen, but seeing another person he cared about walk away from him - he turned ten-years-old, scared and angry. He could live without him, if he had to. A year, he lasted a year, before he realized he couldn't. That there was no one else who really saw through Nico's bullshit, no one except Hazel and Reyna, there was no one else he trusted more. No one, save for Bianca, he missed more. 

There are soft hums now, travelling through the branches. He goes to investigate, it might be a river spirit, a siren, calling. He reaches the stream Jason is in, the source of the singing - rusted gold hair made wet, eyes like lightning, miles and miles of skin distorted in the water. Jason. He sings, not noticing Nico's return and Nico's breath catches. He could believe, now, how his father allowed Orpheus to travel to the Underworld. It is a haunting melody and it pierces Nico's heart. It reminds him of his mother, of simpler times, and tears threaten to fall. 

"Nico," Jason says, but his voice is no less beautiful, now laces with concern. He could listen to his name escape Jason's lips for the rest of his life. Jason comes out, dripping wet, and toward him. "You okay? You look..."

Like his entire soul was torn open?

"How did you learn to sing like that?"

"I made friends with Orpheus and Eurydice," he says, like that's a normal thing. "I've never sung before but they liked it."

"So do I."

Jason blushes and it's a revelation. Nico reaches for his hand, because he's allowed to, even if it's under the pretense of bringing Jason back to life. 

"Did I make a mistake?" Nico asks. "Taking you from Elysium. The happiest place in existence." 

"You say that like I had no choice in the matter." Jason takes a blanket from their pack and drapes it over both of them, though he must be freezing from the water. "I don't regret leaving, Nico. So you shouldn't either." 

"You might, one day." 

"Well, then, you'd just have to kill me, wouldn't you?" His voice pitches high, in laughter. Blue eyes meet brown. "Tell me something."

"What?"

"Anything." 

So Nico talks, because Jason has always encouraged it. He is not shy with Jason, not like he was at the beginning. He talks, coaxed by agreeing sounds, hums, and laughter. He tells Jason about Bianca and Jason chokes over words about Thalia. Maria, then Beryl. Hades, then Jupiter. Being ostracized, then being isolated. Jason’s life was governed by rules. Nico’s by the lack of them. Their stomach starts to growl from hunger. While Jason makes them lunch, Nico falls in love with how some of their scars match. 

They spend the rest of the day exploring the woods. Nico tells him about the ghosts he can sense between the trees. Jason's feet are inches off the ground just to make Nico laugh. They pick leaves from withered trees and use them to create patterns on the ground. Jason asks, "What's the first thing you wanna do when you get back?"

"Hazel's banana bread. It's really good. That's our first stop." _Our_. "You?"

"Give a five-minute hug to all our friends. Line them all up and hug them one by one. Leo first, of course, then Piper-"

Throughout the day they've been here, Nico's face has started losing weariness. A warmer glow on his cheeks, a perpetual smile - though his lips upturn in a way that suggests he is out of practice with happiness - but the age, the sadness, suddenly creeps in. 

"She misses you," he says. Oh. 

"I miss her, too," Jason says, because it's the truth but, "We broke up." He doesn't know why he needs to reiterate it but it feels important, he wants Nico to smile again. 

"She said." Nico starts to draw patterns with a stick. "You guys will get back together."

"No," Jason says. "We won't."

Nico's head snaps back up. Could it be-? Could it-

"All our memories, they weren't ours. I loved her, I know I did but...not in the way either deserve. She deserves a great love. Something like what Achilles and Patroclus have, or...Orpheus and Eurydice." A love that threatens the very nature of the world, the very laws of it. Something soft and tender, something wild and ruinous and healing. "And so do I." 

"Do you think you'll find it?" 

Looking at Nico now, and remembering him - the black hair, the bravery, the pain, the capability of great love, the matching scars - Jason thinks, _I already have_. "Yes." 

"Me, too." 

Jason's throat is thick. He doesn't want to ask but - "Will?" 

Nico doesn't make eye contact. "No, not Will. We didn't work out. He's a good guy but, no, not him." Wind pushes at Nico's hair. It's getting so long now. "But someone." 

Hope begins to hope, in his miraculously beating heart. 

That night, Nico puts out the extra tent. "What are you doing?" Jason asks. 

"I just thought - it's been a full day now. Hazel was fine after that." 

Jason tilts his head, something akin to fondness playing in his eyes. "That has nothing to do with it," he says. "Unless you don't-"

Nico doesn't answer, it feels too close to admission. He just packs the tent away, returns to Jason's side. As they start to fall asleep, he wonders if this is what love is. It feels a lot like grief. 

Jason wakes up in the middle of the night, with a gasp. 

"I have dreams about me being dead."

"I have nightmares about the same thing."

Nico listens to his heartbeat, taps the beat along Jason's abdomen, until they fall back asleep. 

On their third day, Nico complains about wanting something other than camp food and Jason wholeheartedly agrees. "Let's go explore the big bad world." They layer up, and wear caps and it feels like a game, like they're kids playing pretend, pretending they aren't demigods or children touched by death. They hold hands as they cross the threshold between wilderness and a roadside diner with peeling paint outside. Nico leads Jason inside, this weird diner. There is a falter in Jason's step and Nico wants to worry but Jason smiles, says it's alright, and can he have a chocolate milkshake? 

The diner isn't packed by any means, but there are a few families around, some waitresses on staff and old 50s music is playing. They order cheeseburgers and fries and milkshakes and Jason's feet taps in beat to the music. But his eyes... They're not all there. They're glazed over, not looking at him. He takes a while to respond to any of Nico's questions. 

"Jason?" Nico asks. "Hey, you alright?"

A few seconds pass. "Yeah." 

Nico's heart twists. "No, you're not. Jason, what's wrong?" 

The waitress comes over with their orders and Nico tells her, "Actually, could we have this to go?"

She's older than both of them, and spares a look to Jason. "Sure, kid. You still gotta pay at the counter, though." 

He stands and puts a hand on Jason's shoulder, hopes it grounds him enough. "I'll be right back. Promise me you'll stay here until I come back, alright?" 

"Promise." His voice is short, cut, and his eyes are staring at the television. It's not even playing anything. Gods. 

Nico follows the waitress, pays hurriedly and she keeps glancing between him and Nico. "Was he in the army? He looks young, but was he?" When Nico doesn't answer immediately, she says. "My brother. Two tours. Came back with the same look. Remind him he's not back there, wherever it is. It helps." 

He can't answer, doesn't want to think about what's in Jason's head, where he is right now. "Thank you," is all he manages, and grabs the food, stuffs them into his bag. They'll be squished but Nico can't even give a flying shit, not when Jason looks like that. He gently pulls Jason up. "C'mon, Jason."

Jason is silent the whole time they walk back into the woods, back to the stream. This is good, this is familiar. He doesn't want to touch Jason if that's not what he needs but he can't sit here and do nothing. Nico has bad spells sometimes, where he'll stop mid conversation and be reminded of Tartarus, of Bianca, of his mother, but not like this. 

"Nico," Jason says and, gods, his voice is wet, is thick. He finds Nico's hand and pulls it to his face. "Please." 

Good, he's asking for something, but Nico doesn't know what it is. "Talk to me, Jason."

"Hold me?" Fuck, fuck, he sounds so _small_. 

Nico can't move fast enough. He shifts, pulls his body up so they're cuddled against a tree, and, man, this should be embarrassing and shameful but he can't deal with those right now because Jason is crying. Wracking sobs and Nico wants to die, he wants to bury himself, because there's not a sound worse than this. Jason's head is at Nico's chest, his hair underneath his chin. All he can do is hold him, stroke his back until his breath evens out. 

"I remember when you summoned me," Jason says but his voice isn't all that clear yet. "How I passed through you. Sometimes I...still think I'm dead. That I'll just touch you and not feel anything, that I won't leave any footsteps." 

Shit, now Nico wants to cry. 

"All those people in there, I kept thinking I wasn't like them. They were all alive and I was..." He looks up and his eyes are wet, huge, and lost. "I was dead, Nico. I _died_. And my life when I was alive - a lone cabin and-"

"Jason." Nico holds his gaze, even if it hurts. And, shit, it hurts. This is Jason Grace, strong and infallible and if Nico didn't already go to hell and back for him, he would do it now. "You're not back there. You're alive again. And you get to do it any way you want this time, and I'll help you. I'll put in a petition for a camp reform so lone campers shouldn't have to be by themselves. It was a shit rule anyway."

Jason doesn't laugh, but there's an echo of a smile. Good, shit, that's so good, Nico's bones flood with relief. 

He pulls him back in. The position is uncomfortable, Nico's neck is starting to ache, but Jason is steadier. Everything about Jason is big, larger-than-life, but Nico is reminded that Jason's sixteen. He's sixteen and been through more shit than anyone, even a demigod, can imagine. With the laundry list of trauma Jason has, Nico doesn't want to believe this is the first time he's broken down like this but he wholeheartedly does. He can completely believe Jason would inhale every pain he's been through and never exhale it, letting it poison his lungs. 

Guess that's another thing they have in common. 

But Nico's learned. Jason's helped him to. 

Jason strokes Nico's back with patterns. In this gesture, he hears - _take care of me_. 

And Nico - everything that has ever come into his hands has turned to ash. But Jason makes him believe (always has) and maybe this time will be different. _I will_. Nico is set alight from the inside. 

"Okay, soldier, let's eat. I'm hungry and my leg fell asleep." 

It's Jason who suggests it. "How far away are we from New Rome?" he asks. His belly is full, even if the cheeseburger was not that great. He's thinking seriously about being a chef now, wonders if it's a skill he can bring to the battlefield. 

"Like a three day walk?" Nico answers, after facing his palm to the earth. Just as Percy can navigate the seas, like Jason can steer the sky, Nico can feel the earth. "We could probably reach there in a day with a bus." 

"We can walk, I'm not in a rush." 

"You ready to?" Nico asks. "Go back, I mean." 

"I'm ready to go home." Not to an apartment in New Rome, nor a cabin in Camp Half Blood, but just his friends, the place that made him, for better or for worse. He needs to find a place for him there, a new one, one that won't hurt as much.

"I know what you mean," Nico says. "I wish I could stay here forever, though." 

Jason shrugs. "We could always come back," he says. "Whenever things are hard, or we just want a break. Send each other a code word and we'll pack our camping gear."

"You'd want to do this with me again?" 

He makes the space between them nonexistent. He doesn't know how Nico feels about him, but he was there when Jason's body shivered with sadness, and that means something. He took care of Jason and he can't remember the last time someone did that for him, out of the context of a fight. In quiet moments like these, he wants to believe he deserves care, too. "There's no one else I'd rather do it with." 

Now they're travelling by actual roads, it doesn't make much sense to still camp out. So they start going to little motels by the side of the road and Nico always asks for a room with one bed. Jason doesn't know when it became normal for them to fall asleep together but it has. He already knows he wouldn't have as good as a sleep if Nico wasn't next to him, curled up against his front. Sometimes they switch, Nico's arm around his waist and Jason falls asleep feeling protected, other times he feels like protecting Nico. 

The room they're in is small, with a double bed that smells like Oreos, but there's a TV there and he hasn't really watched TV, like ever, in general. Maybe that can be another new hobby and he'll finally be able to understand Leo's jokes. A kid's movie about an orange fish is playing when Nico turns it on. 

"Ugh," he says. 

"What?"

"The movie. It's Percy's favourite. I feel like I've memorized every line, he's played it every time it's his turn to pick for movie night."

Jason sits next to him. "Movie night?" 

Nico falls back on the bed, his arm covering his face. "Yeah, I think we started it like a few months after you died. Every week, someone's place, watch a movie and eat pizza or something. It was Hazel's idea so obviously I have to go. Me and Hazel aren't allowed to pick anything though, we haven't seen a movie since, like, six decades ago. But next time though-" He looks at Jason. "Next time, you can pick." 

Jason beams. "I don't think I'd be any better. But I remember watching Superman when I was younger, when the Cohort got together. Maybe Superman, then. I always had a crush on him." 

There is surprise in Nico's face but he must know Jason's inclinations, must suspect. Any guy who would cuddle with him every night never would've been 100% straight. "Never would've guessed superheroes were your type." 

"Maybe not superheroes, just people who help people, who come back for them." _Like how you came back for me_. "And dark-haired." 

A beautiful pink flush travels up Nico's cheeks. 

" _I shall call him Squishy_ ," it takes a while for him to realize Nico's reciting along with the TV, " _and he shall be mine and he shall be my Squishy_."

Jason falls back, too, their shoulders pressed against each other. "I miss them." 

He imagines all of them piled onto the floor, watching something on the TV, the casual friendship of it all. They were comrades forged in fire during the war but it's nice to know, maybe they're real friends now. Maybe his death was good for something, bringing them together like this. Nico sits up, rummages through his bag and comes out with a-

"Is that a phone?" Jason asks. "Is that safe?"

"Leo invented it, he assured me it was completely safe but I'm not betting on it not exploding some day, because, you know, Valdez." 

Nico searches through his phone. "I guess," Jason says slowly, "a year was enough for me to miss a lot of stuff." Movie nights, a phone, Jason's been worried about finding a new place for him, but what if there is none anymore? What if they've all moved on, without him?

"You've got a lot of time to catch up. I'm not letting you die again anytime soon." Nico's fingers brush against his. "Here, look. This was Percy's birthday." 

A video starts playing and Jason's heart in his chest begins beating so loudly, he wants to cry, at this image of familiar faces. There Piper is, with streamers in her hair, Leo, gods, Leo, with his mouth open with laughter. Percy stands in the middle of the room, icing on his face, and Reyna stands in the corner quietly laughing around a drink. There's music playing, they're in an apartment Jason can't recognize but it's well-loved. Frank is fixing a lamp someone broke, Grover helping him. A woman with a kind face and dark hair stands with her arm on Nico's shoulder. Sally, he thinks, that must be Percy's mother. His insides twist, thinking about the love, how long it must've taken for them to be friends, real friends, with each other. How it comes effortlessly now. 

"Nico," Jason says, but his voice is rough, like he's been crying. "You look happy."

"Yeah, I guess I do." 

Jason wonders who it was who extended the hand of friendship in grief, who it was that gave Nico something so precious. 

"You have a family, Nico." Reyna gives him a stoic hug in the video and Hazel, who's holding the camera, gives him a wet kiss. _C'mon_ , she is saying, _I wanna have a video with all of us in it, Mrs Jackson could you help?_ "And you found it by yourself."

In the dark, a hand holds his. "Not by myself. Never would've made it this far without you." Nico strokes a finger along the side of his wrist, a comforting gesture. He thinks about his loneliness in Camp Jupiter, how no one came looking for him when he disappeared, about Thalia who has a new family now, and then about Nico, who tore open the Underworld to bring him home, and about the kids on the screen of Nico's phone. _Frank, why don't you sit there?_ Mrs Jackson asks, _there's an empty seat_. _No, Mom_ , Percy says, _that seat's for Jason_. "They're your family, too."

They're about a day out of New Rome and Nico is mourning. He is thinking of Jason before he died. Bright and golden, unattainable, filled with so much strength and love. People flocked to him, as a leader, as a counselor. He knows now, how Jason would never truly just belong to him. He would belong to Piper, to Leo, to Thalia and Reyna. The past few days, Nico could believe that he could've been. Jason still holds his hand, still cuddles next to him, still tells him how he wants to explore California again one day, maybe find the home he and Thalia used to share when he was a child. 

But he will never again have Jason like this. 

This is not real, this is not the reality they live in. He will fall into the arms of their friends, and only look at Nico as another extension of the group. But if there's one thing Nico's learned from this is that everything is precious, and short-lived. One day, he, too, will die. Jason will die again, one day, and Nico will have run out of favours, won't be able to come back for him. 

They are eating lunch, just some sandwiches and Cokes, on a park bench. The winter is slowly making its way into spring, but there is still need for warmth so Jason slings an arm around Nico's shoulder, lets him lean closer. A pigeon lands on their bench and Jason smiles. 

"Do you think I can talk to birds?" he asks. "Like, Percy can talk to fish and horses, and you can talk to ghosts."

"Wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility."

Jason closes in on the pigeon and whispers to it, the dork. 

"What are you talking about?"

There it is, the smile, and, for once, Nico can't contain the rush of affection that floods through. He's done pretending. He's hidden under too many lies his entire life and Jason opens him. He can lie all he wants but the truth is this - when Jason died, Nico did not want to rest, wanted to tear the limbs off Caligula’s body, turn bloody, march into the underworld and beg his father to take him, before his time. The simple truth of it is that, if he didn’t have to pretend, if he didn’t have to lie, he would only have spoken Jason’s name. the root of all sadness, sorrow, happiness, and joy - only Jason. This kid who, by all accounts, should be snarling, cruel, and cold, but saw a boy wrapped in anger and denial and showed him friendship, showed him _love_. 

"You," Jason says. 

Nico has a lot of shit in his life, things he hasn't faced yet, things that are scary, things that make him scary, but Jason is the bright spot in everything. Jason tells him there is a sliver of light in every room cloaked in darkness. 

"Jason," he says, brave, scared, full of fear and hope. He doesn't know the last time he's dared to hope. Before Hazel, who looks at him with care; before Percy taught him how to swim, became a brother, before Bianca, before his mother died. "Do you love me?"

His eyes are blue, so blue. 

He doesn't answer immediately. 

Nico stands, walks away, but hears Jason run to him. He grips on Jason's shirt, tight, can't bear to look at him yet. Gods, he'd die. He'd die right there. 

"Nico, you just surprised me, hey, c'mon, look at me. Look at me, sweetheart," the endearment falls out of his mouth like it's meant to, like Nico is something tender, sweet. Jason's the only person who could see him like that. Nico looks up. "I love you. Gods, _I love you_."

Jason strokes the skin of his cheek. "You love me?"

"How could I not?" Before Nico can list down the reasons, Jason rushes to meet him, a kiss on his forehead. "Brave, and beautiful. How could I not love you?"

Nico wants to cry. Will never held him like he was revered, something holy, something good. "I don't know if I..." his voice trails off. "I might, I could." He does, but the truth is, he's not ready. He can't say the words yet, doesn't know the magnitude of the words yet. 

"That's okay," Jason says. "If you'll have me, I'll wait. I'll wait until you're ready, nothing goes until you say so, until you tell me what you want."

"I want this." He gestures wildly to their embrace, to Jason's lips. "But slowly." 

"Snail's pace." Jason leans in. "This okay?"

"You don't have to ask every time." 

Jason shakes his head. "You've lived long enough with people just taking things from you. I'm not gonna do that. I'm not gonna let myself hurt you." Nico thinks he's going in for a kiss, a real kiss, but his lips find Nico's cheeks.

"You want this, too?" Nico wishes he wouldn't sound so timid, so small, but there is no other way to be, not yet. 

Another kiss on Nico's nose. "Yeah, fuck, yeah, I want this. Anyway you want. I was fine with living as friends when you brought me back, I swear, but this is, like, ridiculously better. How many times can I call you cute before you feel like punching me, huh? I'm gonna reach that limit." Nico's cheeks warm. "There, you're adorable." 

"You felt like this, before?" 

Nico realizes where they are, in the middle of a park in California. There are people staring, Nico feels self-conscious, even more so when Jason brings Nico's hand to his chest. There are layers between them but he can feel Jason's heart beating fast, loud. 

"I owe every heartbeat I have now to you," he says. "But even before you brought me back to life, those heartbeats belonged to you." 

Jason's so earnest, Nico wants to kill him. Was he this sappy before he died? Nico can't remember. He might've been - Nico just never heard him. 

They hug, Nico finds his favourite spot in the crook of Jason's neck. Into Nico's hair, Jason says, breathless, "You bring me to my knees. I don't think you understand." 

He's starting to. 

The next day, they're so close to New Rome Jason can almost smell it. Excitement flurries inside him, about more than one thing. He can't handle it, can't believe he has Nico, that Nico shares his affections. They're going to go slow, and Jason's so okay with that. He'll be living to 80 years old and still just be cuddling and he would be very okay with that, as long as Nico wants him. The hotel they're staying at is nicer than most, and has a breakfast bar. He wakes up early to get some food for both of them. Nico's pretty tired, didn't even stir, mainly because they spent last night talking, about everything, about the year Jason missed, about how cute Jason thinks Nico is. They haven't even kissed and Jason feels like he's floating. A few times, he actually has to check that his feet are on the ground. 

He comes back to the room with paper plates full of eggs, toast, bacon and some fruit, it's probably the most substantial meal they've had this trip. Jason wants to make full use of his kitchen in his apartment in New Rome after this, wants to learn how to make pasta, or Hazel's banana bread. 

"Jason," Nico says when he returns. His eyes are shiny. 

"Oh, hell, what's up? Nico, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Jason places the plate on the desk. 

"Sorry, I just woke up and you were gone and I thought-" Nico shakes his head. "Sometimes I forget. That you're back." 

Shit, he's an idiot. Of course. He should've left a note, jeez, he should've left a note. Jason died, he's only been alive for a week, he was dead for a year, that takes some time to sink in. Nico's lost too many people without notice - his mom, Bianca. Jason rushes, pulls Nico into him, and lays them back on the bed. "Hey, I'm here." 

"This sucks," Nico says. "Like, tomorrow, we'll be back home and I can't keep worrying you're dead every time I can't see you." 

"I'll get one of those demigod phones. Call me anytime you like, but, I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna leave your side for, like, weeks even when we're back." Jason strokes Nico's back. Gods, he burns at the thought that he's allowed to do this now. "I'll spend as much time with you as I can, so it sticks." 

There's an audible sniffle. "I can't ask you to do that. You've got all your plans, the minor gods, the camp reforms." They talked about it last night, Nico knows what's on Jason's agenda. 

"Hey," Jason says, soft, but he tries to make a point. "What do I have to do that's more important than this?" _Than you_ , Jason thinks, but they've only been together for less than 24 hours, he can keep in some sappiness for later. 

He is already thinking of all the ways Nico can follow him on trips to honour the minor gods, the ways they can schedule each other, he is thinking about getting a double bed for his place. 

"I'm sorry, Nico."

"What are you sorry for? You're not the one ruining your boyfriend's t-shirt." Boyfriend. Jason will buy twelve identical t-shirts for Nico to ruin, if he keeps saying that. 

“I’ll do anything. I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I died. I’m sorry you had to rescue me. I’m sorry I let you. Gods, I was desperate, and selfish. but every day, I am so grateful. even when I thought you were with Will, gods, just looking at you…I never want to leave you again. I could go on the river Styx, and never go back to Camp Jupiter, get an Achilles curse, on my arm, on my heel, on my ass-” Nico laughs. “Anything, yeah?" So much for keeping in the sappiness. 

Before he knows, Nico is crying and Jason doesn’t know what to do with that. Jason was raised with brutality, with feral teeth and growls, then with strict rigidity, there was no room for gentleness. But Nico makes him tender, makes his heart open in shades he didn’t know existed. so he leans forward, places a kiss on both sides of Nico’s cheeks, tasting salt. he puts his lips on Nico’s forehead, like a blessing. Gods, what a blessing.

"Kiss me," Nico says. "Properly." 

Jason groans. "You keep saying things like that, I'm gonna be completely useless, you're gonna have to drag me to New Rome."

"You're so annoying." 

Nico grabs him by his t-shirt and, jeez, this is it. The slide of Nico's lips against his, rough and untrained, and sloppy and lush and open and everything he has ever wanted. And he gets it, he's sixteen (seventeen maybe? who knows?) they've got decades left to live, but he's been dead before. Here, he feels alive. Honeyed apples and wine in Elysium, he never thought he could feel alive again. 

Nico asks him to sing. He does. 

"There it is." New Rome looms in front of him, home, and, also, not. Nico holds his hand. "You ready?"

"Not even close," but he smiles. "C'mon." 

The feeling of being alive has dulled a bit now, but being in New Rome, he is overtaken by it again. The market, the people, the colour, the deep smells. Nico is leading him and he doesn't know where they're going but he doesn't care. He catches the eyes of people, merchants, he can remember and smiles. The prodigal son has returned. Jason is so distracted with everything, letting himself breathe it in and not be overwhelmed, that he is momentarily stunned when Nico stops in front of the ambassador's villa. 

There is a stronger grip on his hand. "You trust me, son of Jupiter?" And Jason brings his hand up, kisses the knuckles. It's infinitely better than having to drink poison a lifetime ago. Nico opens the door and Jason doesn't burst out in tears but it's a close thing. 

A blue birthday cake, a banner shouting Welcome Home! and everyone he loves in a single room. Piper and Leo, arms around each other, eyes wet. Percy and Annabeth and Grover, who are wearing SPQR t-shirts. Reyna, who gives him a nod. Frank and Hazel, who hold the cake. And, gods, Thalia. Thalia, who raised him as well as she could, who loved him, who mourned him twice. He looks older than her now. 

"Hey, baby brother," she says and his knees feel like air. He can't move fast enough, he melts into her embrace. His sister, his family. In the distance, in her smell, he is two-years-old and they are celebrating his birthday. She tells him she loves him and that, one day, they'll find a home that will make them happy. She makes him look up, puts a kiss on his forehead. "Welcome home, Jason. We're so happy to see you." 

Everything surfaces - anger and fear and grief and love and rage. He hates that he had to die to have this, he loves that he had to die to appreciate this. 

He feels the hands of everyone in the room on him. He cries. He thinks about his death, his funeral, about even this, will not be forever, about how he will have to find a new place in this family where he'll fit, about the trauma and healing of everyone. He thinks about the love being poured into him, that kept coming even after he died. Nico, the one who retrieved his soul, and everyone here who wanted him to. These people, who saw a dead body of a boy they cared about. These people who buried him and said, _enough. No more deaths. Our act of rebellion will be to love._

He is twenty-six. He smells like cinnamon and chocolate, a new recipe he's working on. There's flour on his face and paint on his hands. Music streams through the room, their double bed with gray and blue covers. A guitar sits on the opposite side of the room, a picture of Estelle's birthday, all of them gathered around her, directly above it. He asks Nico, who sits next to him, “When we die, will you choose reincarnation?”

Nico hums. “I haven’t really thought about it.” It surprises Jason. “Will you?”

“I don’t know. Elysium is great, but maybe it will be nice.”

“What will?”

“Finding you again, and again. I will have lifetimes to love you. Then an eternity.”

Flames lick at Nico’s heart. _It will burn_ , Achilles once said. It does, it does, it always will.

**Author's Note:**

> the english lit student in me is like this fic about two boys finding out how to do things that were taken from them: how to live and how to love. they teach each other. they live, and they are in love. 
> 
> a short playlist of the songs that remind me of jasico that i listened to while writing:  
> 
> 
> take me home, country roads - john denver  
>  my tears ricochet - taylor swift  
>  love like this - ben rector  
>  all the pretty girls - kaleo  
>  golden thread - passenger  
>  blu (acoustic) - jon bellion 


End file.
